Necare Amare
by Ookamii
Summary: "To kill, or to love? I suppose I no longer can decide for myself, so I will let him decide for me." Arthur Kirkland has been an assassin his entire life, but when fate leads him to Alfred, an assassin for the enemy clan, he realizes that he cannot get the bastard off his mind.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

**Firstly, I would like to formerly apologize for not updating my Hikaru and Kaoru multi-chapter fanfictions, but I'm afraid to say I've lost quite a bit of muse on them, so please be patient with me.**

**This is my first Hetalia fanfiction. Also, I use quite a bit of latin in this, of which I am not skilled in, so please forgive me if I butcher it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, because if I did I would be swimming in my own awesomeness instead of writing fanfictions. The awesome owner of this series is Hidekaz Himaruya.**

_Vendolius Abbatia, 1752, "I was born…"_

I was merely an infant the first time I let the hand of Lupe touch me, and even then I felt her spirit encircle me and cradle me near her starry bosom as my own mother had before her departure that morning. It was rumored that the abbas who held me could be heard murmuring the same word repeatedly as he laid me in the pool beneath Luna herself: _mactabilis_. It does not take a wise man to seek the deeper message behind that word; the abbas expected great things for me. I had taken a life at such a premature age, as death in childbirth was still death none the less. I was born lethal, deadly, a murderer. Our clan, the clan of Vendolius, celebrated beneath the spirits of Lupe and Luna alike that morning until Solace took his throne at dawn. My hands were then supposedly washed in the blood of a hostage as tradition insisted they be. Once I was cleansed and dressed in proper robes, I was finally handed off to my father as an assassin in training. The word _mactabilis _imprinted itself upon me from then on.

I was a prodigy from the moment I attended my first lesson. Religion and the history of Gandavum, the proud country in which we all are born, were the first subjects fed to us. Myself and the other children devoured the knowledge like starving wolves, although I was the only one to truly excel. I can recite the Gandavum pledge at this moment.

_Heil King George,_

_Our beloved crusader,_

_Heil Queen Caroline,_

_Keeper of the King's Colors,_

_And may their conquers,_

_Doused in blood,_

_Be forever victorious._

Being a clan of assassins, an outsider may find our support of The Royals as counterintuitive. Although, as unlikely as it seems, his lordship supports us with every farthing in his pocket. Rumor has it that he established the Vendeuils originally to settle a score that arose from a botched gamble. King George and Queen Caroline share our belief in the goddess Lupe as well, and her nocturnal companion Luna. It was quite a proud day for me when I befuddled my simple-minded classmates with my natural ability to memorize every detail – every smidge learned to us stored in my mind. When asked what animal form Lupe most commonly took, I confidently answered that she _always _took the form of a wolf when speaking with mortals, thus giving her the name Lupe, a derivative of _lupus. _And again, when asked what form Luna took in the mortal world, I answered that she revealed herself as our glorious moon with a knowing smirk on my face.

My mother was an assassin, an incredible feat for a woman back in her time, though not so much anymore. Not everyone in our clan of assassins actually holds the title for which it is named. Many of the women are healers, a task not available to men, and then some are looters. Being a looter is not a proud job, as it is usually a backup plan for those who cannot handle the life of a true killer. Looters live in the unkempt chambers of our estate, feeding on the scraps of those who master their crafts. An abbas is a holy servant of Lupe in Vendolius Abbatia, responsible for all sacred rituals involving all ages of clan members. My mother was blessed by an abbas when she was a little girl. My father told me she had returned to her parents earlier that month with blood in her golden curls, and when questioned on it, she had pointed excitedly to the woods where she had made her first kill.

My father says I look like my mother. He once pulled me aside during my physical training and handed her lucky bow to me, whispering, "Arthur, take this weapon and live your destiny through it. When I look into your eyes, emerald as your mother's were, I see her fierce spirit begging to be released."

My name is Arthur Kirkland. I am the son of Alice Kirkland, and like her, I am a proud assassin for the clan of Vendolius.

* * *

_Vendolius Abbatia, 1775, "It has begun…"_

The winds rustled the leaves on the trees overhead, making it a noisy afternoon. It was a hot summer day in the month of Jûlius, but beautiful all the same. The flowers were in full bloom throughout the fields and forests that made up Vendeuil territory. I especially loved the roses, the way the accentuated all beauty without perfection since their long, vibrant green stems were adorned with thorns. I had written many poems on the roses, metaphors for humanity, for women and men, for me. They symbolize so much; it's no wonder that Queen Caroline enjoyed them so. I could only imagine being able to have a garden of my very own…but that was a weak thought. I wasn't out to look at flowers, but for a _different _breed of enjoyment. I crawled through the brush, the sounds of the canopy high above me masking my every step. My silver dagger was tucked securely away in my boot, although my exuberance was slightly subpar with the reminder that I did not have my bow. It would have been too much to handle in a situation as delicate as this, so I left it in Onyx's saddle.

I stiffened at the sharp _crack _of a twig and consciously bent lower until I was practically inhaling the fresh soil. My breathing slowed to soft puffs, and I continued forward. I felt I was fairly well-hidden in my coat and greaves, viridis in colour to match my hunting habitat. This wasn't a regular hunt. It wasn't for survival, more for pleasure. This was the sport that made my heart, dark as ash, pound in the most thrilling manner. I smiled as I heard another bout of movement to my right, quick and panic-stricken, suggesting a fearful retreat. I would not have it. Unsheathing my dagger I braced myself, taking two or three deep breaths before advancing in this heart-stopping new game of cat and mouse. My own footsteps were now equally quick and noisy as my prey's had been, this time in an eager pursuit instead of a cowardly retreat. I allowed myself to straighten enough to where I wasn't squatting the entire time; it made it easier to see the path my prey was taking as well as giving my aching knees a slight relief. I saw a lock of auburn hair flutter from behind a boulder and grinned savagely at the prospect that I had cornered another human being.

I bit my tongue to withhold a squeal of delight and purred when I felt the rust tickle my taste buds. Delicious. Everything about this moment was simply _delicious. _I could hear the desperate panting of the person on the other side, and as I continued to slither toward the boulder, I found that my own breathing was also quite unsteady. I paused, closing my eyes to all the beauty around me that had suddenly turned red in my predator's daze, and inhaled deeply. To my alarm, before I could exhale and reopen my eyes I felt warmth brush my side and continue its mad dash behind me. I opened my eyes with a growl and made a half-turn, throwing my dagger in the direction of the movement. I could feel my eyes gleam in satisfaction at the horrified yelp that accompanied my throw, and my feet practically walked for me in the direction of the yelp. Sure enough, I had trapped my prey.

"Damn Arthur," Toris gasped, struggling to regain his composure. I beamed in triumph when I saw that the blade had pierced his own coat by the sleeve, pinning him to a random tree. "You weren't kidding when you said you would make practice interesting." He knew better than to yank his arm, as it would tear his coat, and instead resorted to looking at me helplessly. I shrugged and grinned at him, reaching forward to unpin him from the tree, although I quite enjoyed the way he looked so scared and vulnerable. It made the taste of victory all the more sweet.

"I don't kid around, Toris. Honestly, you should have been prepared for my level of _training._" Toris rolled his eyes and held his left arm possessively, probably realizing just how lucky he was that I was an excellent shot. Toris and I had trained together since we were children, and I wasn't ashamed to say that he was one of my best friends. There was something about him that was so opposite of me…it instantly attracted me to him, not in _that _way. Yet still, he almost flunked out of training and became a looter, but because I had such a keen interest in him I managed to convince Roderich, leader of the Vendolius clan, to keep him in my class. His innocence added a taste of refreshment to my life. Even being around him almost made me feel, well, _normal._ It was odd, but a good kind of odd.

"Yes, I suppose I should have," then he smiled shyly, "but you can never tell with you, Arthur. You've been kind of out of it for awhile now, I thought that maybe I would have some sort of a chance. Besides," he pointed to where I held my dagger, "you don't have your bow. If you had, I would have soiled myself." I only sighed and turned away, returning my silver weapon to its rightful place in my boot. I stretched and soundly fell into a sitting position on the ground, beckoning for Toris to do the same.

"A bow would have been too much of a hassle. And you know very well why I've been out of it." I could see him visibly flinch as my tone turned serious. "What with Gilbert trying to pry the spot of leadership out of the hands of Elizabeth's father, it's a wonder she's agreed to marry that bastard."

Roderich was very protective of his daughter despite the fact that she was a very capable assassin. Even I became slightly nervous when training with her; she was stealthy and unpredictable, a deadly combination. Her mother, like mine, had also died in childbirth. She had been gifted from the start. Still, Roderich would insist that she needed protection, and so he called one of the older, more experienced assassins to ask for her hand in marriage. He basically signed his daughter off for protection when she didn't even need it. Gilbert was a bloody wanker if I had ever seen one. He was boastful and pigheaded, and had been in competition with me from the start even though he had been out of school long before I finished. There was a time when he threatened to slice me open from the genitals up for apparently being in love with Elizabeth, the item of his affection. I had simply brushed it off with a snort. Liz and I were too alike in ferocity to ever be a harmonious couple. I only regarded my gorgeous ally as a friend, nothing more would ever come from it.

Toris nodded at my previous statement and bowed his head slightly. "That and you're getting antsy because of the Rouen," he added.

"Bloody Rotomagense clan! Need to stay in their own damn territory before I castrate every last one of 'em," I could feel my face glow red with hatred. Rotomagense was our rival clan. Led by Alexander, they had taken it on themselves to rid the world of our fearless leader, King George, and his family. They claimed that he was overtaxing the people and complained that the number of executions had shot up grotesquely since his succession to the throne. They stormed our land and annihilated many of our assassins, and we had done the same to them. We often met them in battles closer to the City of Royals, however, when they would attempt to assassinate the Royals and we would swiftly step in and put a stop to it. There had been some close calls though, much _too _close. But Lupe is always watching.

"I agree," he mumbled quietly. My emerald eyes instantly met his azure ones and I was surprised to see a hint of sadness in them. My mouth slowly closed in a silent understanding. Toris didn't want to fight. He didn't like violence very much, obviously one of the reasons why he didn't excel in our craft. I pitied him as he was unfortunately born in the wrong place at the wrong time. This was the life he would have to lead from this moment on, and if he couldn't handle it…I shuddered at the thought of what our clan would do to him if he just decided that he wanted to up and leave one day. I would have to prevent that from happening. I vowed at that moment that I wouldn't let any harm come to Toris.

The thundering sound of horse hooves behind us startled us in our somber silence, and I found myself instantly reaching for my knife before Toris' hand gently settled on my shoulder. We both stood as members of our clan rode toward us, having apparent trouble clearing through the thick brush. I realized then with a twinge of guilt that we must have been out longer than expected, forcing them to come looking for us. By the way Toris frowned, he had surmised the same.

Atop the lead horse was Yao, one of the top assassins, and one of the bossiest. His ponytail was like a mane itself, and I briefly remembered how we used to compare him to his horse when we were young and immature. We wouldn't dare get away with that now, let alone try to crack a joke about Yao's hair. I scanned the others behind him for any sign of Gilbert, and sighed in relief when I realized he was not present in the search group. Although, Toris' close friend Feliks was. He didn't look so irritated as he did amused, probably waiting for us to get in trouble. That was just the way Feliks was, a dirty rat, but a fairly trustable companion; fierce fighter too.

"You have been out for far too long; we almost thought you had been captured," Yao hissed, dominantly using his horse to nudge us in the middle of the group. "What did you think you were doing?"

"Training," I snapped back, "in our own territory." I felt Toris grab my sleeve and yank on it, gesturing for me to stop arguing, but I couldn't help myself. Yao just really grazed my knife.

Yao seemed to notice the gesture and turned to where he was glaring at Toris. I faintly heard Feliks snicker in the background. "Hey, you got something to say you say it to me, got it?" With that he turned his horse back to the others and proceeded to plow his way through them as he had with us. Feliks pulled the reins on his steed, allowing Yao to get through while grinning at Toris devilishly. "Come, now!" he ordered, not turning to look at us again. Toris and I looked at each other hesitantly, his eyes unsure and mine probably really ticked off. Finally I shrugged and took a deep breath before padding behind the others. Toris followed me in defeat. I was sure that he had wanted to stay and train longer, but it seemed that more training would have to wait for another day. My eyes travelled to the sky that had mysteriously turned gray and ominous. Exactly when had the beautiful scenery been conquered by storm clouds? I don't recall, but then again, I had been too lost in my thoughts. I watched the ground as we walked, noticing as tiny dark spots began appearing in patterns over the dirt. I tilted my head up and, just as I originally thought, a giant raindrop landed in my eye. My sleeve had barely brushed the droplet away before Yao was hollering at us again to move our feet. "You're going to be walking back to your chamber Kirkland, since we confiscated your horse quite awhile ago." I cursed under my breath, hoping for their sakes that they didn't perform any funny business with my bow. Otherwise, there would be hell to pay.

"It's starting to rain," Feliks called jokingly. "Wouldn't want you to melt."

I heard a faint squeak behind me and mistook it for Toris being startled by the mention of rain. I raised an eyebrow and looked back at him. Surely he wasn't so timid that he was afraid of a little storm? I instantly regretted turning around though, because when I saw Toris he wasn't facing me, but the direction from which we had just came, and his face was pale as if he had just seen a ghost. My gaze travelled to the highest point of the wood and settled on a figure watching us…in familiar red shrouded armor. He seemed to panic when he realized that we saw him, but I was too fired up to turn away now. This was one piece of prey I would not go easy on. I kicked my leg in the air, feeling the cold metal slide out of my boot and fly into the air, catching it in my right palm as sweat settled on my brow. No dirty Rouen was going to leave my territory alive.

I dashed for the intruder, hearing the shrill scream of Toris behind me, and then the pounding of hooves as the others followed in hot pursuit. Yao caught up to me easily on his horse, but instead of stopping to lend a hand, he kept on racing to where the Rotomagense assassin was now fleeing for his life. I briefly paused while the horses rumbled past, noticing a speck of movement in the brush to the side. It was difficult to see through the rain, but I could feel a presence close to me. I gasped and tumbled away as an arrow nearly grazed my shoulder, patting myself on the back for my lack of blindness. Pulling myself to my feet, I launched myself into the brush with a yell of defiance, swinging my dagger left and right through the traitorous plants as the other intruder remained frighteningly invisible. I heard the familiar sound of an arrow being drawn, and then cried out as, presumably, that very arrow sliced into my right shoulder blade. I fell to my knees and clutched in the general area of the wound, unsure of how to continue with my swinging arm injured. Another arrow was fired, this one grazing my side. I hissed loudly and fell to the ground in pain, feeling ill as the smell of my own blood wafted all around me. I could hear one last arrow being readied, surely the one that would take my life. Before Lupe could once again take me within her warm embrace, however, the familiar sound of Yao calling to me nearly busted my eardrums.

Before I knew it I was surrounded by Yao and the troop, Toris bending down to inspect my wounds. I blinked a couple of times and realized they had a prisoner with them: a petite little man with a mess of crimson hair and a face that clearly showed he was terrified beyond belief. He was tied up on the back of Feliks' horse pleading in incoherent little mumbles. I was able to get a better look at him as I was hoisted up by Feliks and Toris and placed gingerly over the side of Yao's horse. I was too tired and too interested in our prisoner to complain, though. He didn't look like an assassin. He wasn't intimidating, and there was no bloodthirsty gleam in his eye. He looked like a scared little boy, maybe a civilian dressed in assassin's clothing, but surely not a member of the Rotomagense clan.

"_Ignavus,"_ I muttered.

"He's a Rouen assassin, says his name's Feliciano," Feliks explained to me as we began moving again. The rough grinding of the horse's back against my wounds and bruises was enough to leave me disoriented to where I couldn't reply. "And he's gonna tell us all we need to know." I wasn't so sure. Surely a member of the Rotomagense clan wouldn't spill the secrets of his clan so easily? He might have been an ignavus, might have looked too frail and weak to watch over a rabbit let alone himself, but surely he was not a traitor at that? Or if he did spill his guts, perhaps it would be out of cowardice. Yes, I could see it now. He appears to be a coward. Perhaps we do have a chance then. Perhaps this captive will finally give Lupe and Luna something to smile about. I thought all of this while looking directly at him, though he wouldn't meet my gaze. He was in slapping distance, if I had the strength to reach. His eyes were downcast, sorrowful; his face tear-stained and dirty. I almost felt sorry for the lad, but he put himself in this mess. Lupe help him, it was not my fault if he was executed. Only moments later I noticed his muscles had grown lax. Realizing he had passed out, I felt my own lids grow heavy, and turned my head so that Feliciano would not be the last thing I saw before diving into the abyss. What I did see was far from the dirty face of a sniveling captive. Barely visible, as it was hidden within the shadows of the wilderness, was a miraculous black wolf. Its green eyes glimmered like embers at me before it faded away.

"_Lupe_," I croaked as I, too, faded away.

* * *

_Rotomagense Abbatia, 1775, "We will prevail…"_

I always passed that room, the door shut tight as if someone was afraid that someone else would see something they weren't supposed to. But this time the door was open, wide open for everyone to see. I finally realized that this was where Alexander must do all of his planning, this room was the heart of our entire foundation. I scratched my head in confusion as I discovered that not only was the door open, but it was currently in use with many angry clan members bickering back and forth like married couples. It would have been entertaining to watch had I not been spotted. Alexander was at the head of the large table of assassins. His brow was furrowed as he examined a map of the territory of the Vendolius clan with his son, Ivan, tracing the route that two of our own had taken earlier that day. He must have felt my presence because his gaze was no longer on the map, but on me, and then the bickering had quieted as well as everyone's attention lingered solely on me. I cleared my throat and stepped forward into the room, nodding my head in respect to Ivan and then to Alexander as well.

"I apologize for interrupting; I just…Francis mentioned something about there being some trouble. I'm here for assistance if you need it, Alexander." I tried to keep a steady face, to show that I was a confident assassin enough to where these kinds of trifles didn't bother me, but I'm sure my stone face must have wavered at some point because Ivan only smirked to himself and went back to charting on the map. I never really cared for Ivan either to tell you the truth, even if he was the leader's son. Then again, his sister, Natalia, was really no better. I defined her as …strange, not to mention creepy, oh, definitely creepy. Surprisingly, Alexander showed neither of these traits as he smiled warmly at me and beckoned me next to him. I loyally obeyed the command as he welcomed me in and dismissed everyone else, except for Ivan, of course.

"You have impeccable timing, Alfred. I have been needing someone of your stature to accompany Ivan on a rescue mission." My thoughts halted when he explained his purpose to me. We were assassins…going on a rescue mission? Where was the logic in that? I wanted to speak out against the plan with the only reason being our reputation when I realized I didn't even know _who _had been taken. "Ludwig and Feliciano went out on a scout-and-kill mission earlier today, I'm sure you understand. Ludwig fought fiercely and even managed to shoot a Vendeuil assassin down; unfortunately, it seems Feliciano was not so fierce. He was captured. He's still alive as far as we know, but I am going to entrust all of my faith in you to make sure that he is still breathing when your deliver him back to us. Cut down anyone who stands in your way, as this is for your clan's honor."

Feliciano and I had trained together, although we rarely spoke, and he didn't seem like a bad guy. I figured we could share a few words every now and again and maybe even go out to real civilization and waste ourselves at a tavern. Apparently Ludwig was the only real company he had, and I'm not trying to suggest that Ludwig was a bad guy either. It's just…Ludwig was a great assassin. That's all he ever was. The man was stone-faced, serious, and blunt. He would take you down in an instant, a great contrast to Feliciano. But I guess opposites do attract, and now I see where that saying originated from: couples like Ludwig and Feliciano. I only say couple because it's a rumor, and you know how rumors are.

"Are you in, or are you out, Alfred?" Ivan managed to shake me from my thoughts when I realized his hand was held out toward mine, obviously waiting for my reply. Would I accept or deny this mission? Would I give Ivan the satisfaction of knowing that he intimidated me to my quitting point? Would I give in to his stiff words and knowing smirks? Never. And so, I grasped his hand firmly and looked him straight in the eyes.

"I'll grab my flintlock immediately." Most assassins relied on the use of bows and arrows or knives of some kind, especially assassins from the Vendolius clan. I, however, preferred to use all sorts of weapons, especially guns like my flintlock. We made special use of all genres of weapons in the Rotomagense clan, and that was why I was sure we would prevail through this never ending feud that was quickly dissolving into a war. King George would not smother us out like a dying flame. We would burn brighter than anyone had ever seen before, starting with this rescue. My confidence finally refueled, I shook Ivan's hand once and let go. Alexander stopped me before I could turn and properly prepare for the mission, however.

"To the ecclesia with you both, have an abbas bless you before you truly depart. _Tu ne cede malis sed contra audentior ito._"

We nodded and marched out of the room as a united team…for once. I briefly reflected on Alexander's parting words and nodded to myself, letting my energy truly focus in my heart and mind. He is right, I must not yield to misfortune, but advance boldly against it.

"Divide et impera, Alfred. I'll damn you myself if you let me down."

_Divide et impera, yes, divide et impera._

* * *

**You've made it through the first chapter! Now, time to explain some things.**

**The main country we're dealing with here is Gandavum, a fictional version using the name of a group of cities and towns in Belgium. You can imagine Gandavum as sort of a European mush of many countries put together with my warped imagination.**

**The clans, Vendolius and Rotomagense, are actually the latin versions of the words I use to describe the inhabitants in this fic, those being Vendeuils and Rouen.**

**_Lupe_: "Wolf"**

**_Luna_: "Moon"**

**_Abbas_: "Father"**

**_Abbatia_: "Abbey"**

**_Mactabilis_: "Lethal"**

**_Julius_: "July"**

**_Viridis_: "Green"**

**_Ignavus_: "Sluggish or Cowardly"**

**_Tu ne cede malis sed contra audentior ito_. : "Yield not to misfortunes, but advance all the more boldly against them."**

**_Divide et impera_. : "Divide and conquer."**

**Note: There are other words in English that the latin words above translate into, I just gave you my basic meanings.**

**Note: I clearly state that this takes place in the 18th Century, however, because this is fantasy and a mess of my imagination not everything will be legitimately from or true to that time period. Notice, however, that it is the year the Revolutionary War began. Coincidence? I think not. **

**Note: I technically made Austria Hungary's father in this. Don't hurt me!**

**And last but not least, I think we all know who Arthur and Alfred are, however, if you couldn't tell:**

**Elizabeth: Hungary**

**Roderich: Austria**

**Ivan: Russia**

**Natalia: Belarus**

**Toris: Lithuania**

**Yao: China**

**Gilbert: Prussia**

**Feliks: Poland**

**Francis: France (should've guessed this, too)**

**Ludwig: Germany**

**Feliciano: Italy**

**Please read and review. :) **


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

**Please read and review. :) I enjoy your reviews even though I've only received one on this story.**

**Disclaimer: Own I do not. I am not a jedi yet.**

_Vendolius Abbatia_

I remember feeling a dull ache swell in my left shoulder and near my ribs, but being too out of it to adjust to my current state or position. I made a motion to caress them that only resulted in me falling back to the healing slab with a loud groan of pain. My stomach ached and my mouth tasted sour with vomit, but I could safely say I probably had an odor a fate worse than death. One whiff of the putrid stench emanating itself from me could send Ave Satanas falling into his own pit of hell, preferring to burn there rather than be subjected to any more of my silent torture. I wanted to be washed – desperately. Yet, when my eyes finally sought to take in my surroundings, I realized that I was alone. I was bandaged up pretty tightly, and was that garlic stuffed in the creases of the bloody cloth? Of course, garlic was a natural remedy used by our nurses since our clan's birth. The awful odor that nearly brought me to tears suddenly made sense. Burgundy curtains were draped along the walls, most decorated with an inky handprint – our insignia. There was a warm fire in the stove across the room, but the dungeon itself was too large and naturally chilly for me to feel its warmth. I shivered and clutched at my arm as footsteps forced my eyes to the foot of the stone steps where my friend Kiku lingered.

"Roderich didn't care to come see me?"

"He caught a glimpse before you came to," Kiku answered quietly, his ebony bangs shielding his expression. I stiffened as he came closer and hesitantly stretched an arm out, making a move to touch my wounds. I gritted my teeth as his hand reached in between a bandage to a very tender area and stuck another chopped clove of garlic. His nose wrinkled in disgust, I imagined more from the smell than the blood.

"Did you hear of our triumph?"

"Of Yao's triumph, yes."

I snorted and turned my head, refusing to look him in the eye as an angry blush stained my cheeks. I could have handled things myself if Yao hadn't of put himself in the way. It was my battle to win – my kill. Yao was weak, taking prisoners when we were born to deny all hostages and end fights with a swift cut of a blade. The thought that he was such a high-ranking assassin made me want to puke again – that, and the horrid smell of garlic that grew stronger with the new clove…courtesy of Kiku. Kiku, surprisingly, looked up to Yao. Though, they didn't get along any better than he and I did.

"Shoulda been mine," I muttered indignantly. He smirked and patted my head, brushing my bangs out of my face. I longed to reach out to him and do the same, but was stuck in the same damn position I had probably been in since I arrived. "Did you hear about the captive?" His smile vanished, and I shivered again. I strained my neck and saw him nod. Satisfied, I lowered my head back to the slab and closed my eyes with a sigh. "Do you know him?"

"Feliciano? Yes, I trained with him. It's no surprise to me that he was captured."

Kiku had been born into our rival clan, though a few disagreements with their leader and his serpent of son had pushed him into betraying his clan and joining ours. Kiku was the first to ever do such a thing – and the last. Fearful that more members would trade loyalties, the clans created a law that any member who longed to leave or join a different clan would be swiftly executed without trial. It was a fair punishment, although the softer side of me was always glad that Kiku made the transition without consequence. He had always been a good friend to me.

"Although, it did surprise me that Ludwig managed to take you down." I could hear the playful taunting in his voice and revealed my own smirk.

"It won't happen again. Trust me."

"I always do." I didn't miss the sentimental note hidden beneath those words, the words that almost brought me to tears each time he uttered them. Kiku was my most loyal companion, and I his, and it occurred to me all at once in that moment that I had nearly left him for Lupe. Lupe was my queen, the one I served with every fiber of my being, but Kiku came a close second. I would never wish to leave him without backup. Though it was true my instinct forced me to protect Toris and despise Gilbert, it drove me even harder to be on equal ground with Kiku. We protected each other, even if it was viewed as weakness among our clan. What else could we do?

He finally brushed his bangs aside, and I had to muffle a gasp as his eyes, warm like chocolate, reflected the flickering firelight. Although, I imagined mine probably did the same. Though my emerald didn't shine so warmly nor so naturally as his earth-like ones managed to. Then I had to muffle a groan as he took my hand and pulled me into a sitting position, draping an arm over his shoulder and moving me off the slab and onto my feet. "I imagine you're well enough to join in the festivities. Everyone is getting drunk off their asses without you," he snickered while we pitifully limped in unison.

"They're missing the life of the party, then. Very well. However, I am still feeling quite a bit woozy, so if I vomit on your uniform, I sincerely apologize."

"Just don't get too hammered in there."

I only smiled as we passed through the shallow corridor. Many of the nurses were already passed out on the floor, wine bottles shattered and half-empty. It was true that when our clan threw a party, _everyone _got involved. Sometimes even the tots could be seen stumbling drunkenly to the nursery or the classroom, and then you could hear the sound of retching and….I do not believe I have to finish that comment.

We managed to make it up a few more stairwells, and I often cursed the infirmary for being so damn close to hell's gates, before I was finally able to support my weight without Kiku holding onto me. I still trembled as I moved and things still ached, though I imagined those aches would quickly disappear the second a spot of bubbly found its way to my needy lips. A loud roaring from the banquet hall made it obvious where the heart of the celebration was located, and upon entering the hall my eyes and ears were hammered simultaneously with outrageous sights and sounds. There were bodies simply dangling from the chandeliers, wine bottles raining their contents over those who managed to stay on the floor. Children were running and screaming, pointing daggers at each other jokingly and falling over in fits of hiccups. There was vomit all over the floor, and the occasional baby playing in it. Suckling pigs and other foods were being thrown off the tables and used for target practice in the far corner of the room. Music was blaring from a couple of sober clanmates nearby, though they didn't seem to mind the unruly atmosphere of the hall.

Toris skipped over to where I stood, my face probably a blank slate and cleverly hiding my distaste…or so I hoped.

"Arthur! I'm so glad you're here. Quick, have a turkey leg!" And with that he stuffed the blasted turkey leg in my slackened mouth. I grabbed the leg and ribbed a piece off, chewing and swallowing quickly before tossing it aside. It was clear that Toris was still fairly sober, and I felt proud of him for a brief moment. All pride vanished when Elizabeth strolled over…Gilbert not too far behind. They were obviously drunk off their asses, just as Kiku had said. Gilbert was hung over Elizabeth lazily, staring at nothing really. The albino looked so…out of it. Elizabeth was the same ole' Elizabeth, however, though with a slight concubine side added to her normal persona. Half of her dress was hanging off, revealing a naked breast. Her eyes were a dull olive, also unfocussed, but somehow lusty as well.

"A-thurrr," she slurred, coming closer to me than I would have like. Gilbert remained on her shoulder like a hawk. "Baby, I'm sooooo glad you're okay. Let'sss'ss have some fun! Shall we, lurve?" My eyes travelled downwards to where her thigh was exposed, and I noticed a white substance trailing down the inside of her leg from underneath her dress. I raised my eyebrow at Gilbert, who had momentarily occupied himself with fondling her breast, and it didn't take a second before I realized what that "substance" was. I could only hope, for her sake, that he hadn't impregnated her.

"No, ummm, _love_, I think you've had a little too much fun for tonight." I shooed her away and limped my way to the front of the room, occasionally passing over an unconscious body or two. At last, I saw Roderich sitting at the end of the large banquet table, sipping a chalice of wine gaily. He was surrounded by a few assassins still masked, obviously unfazed by the beverages as well. I approached consciously, and one by one every figure raised his head to stare me down through the black cloth, though Roderich still had yet to notice my presence in the chaos. Each of the cloaked figures bowed to him silently and backed away, allowing him to sip from the golden chalice in peace. I nodded and stepped forward.

"Lovely celebration, sir," I coughed awkwardly when he refused to acknowledge me.

"Indeed, Arthur," he sipped again before glancing up at me with a sly smile. "I'm sure it's just the same for the Rouen as well."

"Oh, most definitely. How's your daughter?" I brought up suddenly, praying to Lupe he wasn't aware of Gilbert's stains on her gown. Though to my astonishment, he only smiled and raised a hand to point to where the two were swinging each other around, screaming the chorus to a sea-chantey with little inhibitions.

"She's having the time of her life," he then gestured to the rest of the merry folk, "as everyone else is. I imagine you have realized as I have that her flower has been plucked from its stem tonight. Though, I have no complaints. I hope to Lupe that Gilbert is blessed with a child. We could always use another strong hand to shed blood."

I stared at him in what I thought was obvious shock, but he never seemed to notice. Instead he handed me a wine bottle and winked. "Have your fill, Arthur. Those wounds look pretty nasty, still. Numb them."

I stared at the bottle for a few seconds, unsure of whether to trust this man now that he revealed to me that he was pleased his daughter had lost her virginity in such a misused fashion – _drunk of all things_. The contents of the bottle looked ever so tempting, though. And everyone else was celebrating…who was I to purposely leave myself out? True, Kiku would not be very happy with me. I was known to be unable to hold my liquor, yet at this moment all thoughts of refusal left my mind and went to Luna. I took the bottle and allowed myself a deep swig of the stuff. The wine bled down my throat in the most pleasurable manner, and I was reminded of earlier that day when I had been out training with Toris. I received the exact same thrill. It urged me to take in more of the intoxicating liquid, and my breath left me as my senses were pushed to the side in favor of pleasure.

* * *

I came to realize that we had overestimated the enemy, as both myself and Ivan had noticed straight away that the entire abbatia was left unguarded. We made it past the forest without being attacked, but didn't really think anything of it. Then as we crept closer to the gate we came to realize that most of the assassins who would usually be standing watch were completely drunk, lying on the floor like they were just relaxing. It made me snicker to myself until Ivan decided to just up and ruin my fun, flicking me once behind the ear.

"No time for fun and games," he chided. "We must find Feliciano. By the looks of these two, it'll be no problem."

I nodded and prepared to open the doors, laughing inside at how we were planning on strolling right along into the home of our rival clan, before Ivan's arm moved in front of my chest and prevented me from opening the two very large doors. I quirked an eyebrow at him and received one back. He nudged at my flintlock, stored safely away in the wrappings of my cloak and greaves. "Shoot them." My eyes widened and my eyes met with an equally blue pair as one of the men sitting peacefully began to come to his senses…more or less. He smiled up at me and offered a hand, slurring something along the lines of "join the party". I closed my eyes and position the pistol at his head, then fired. The man fell to the ground by his buddy who had remained unconscious. I was secretly grateful for that. It was hard enough taking out someone who had offered you a kind hand a welcoming word…I didn't think I would be able to do it again. I imagined Ivan probably thought it hypocritical of me, longing to prove myself a good assassin and yet being unable to take certain lives. I tried not to think much of it.

When both men were dead we stepped quietly inside, the floor making out footsteps echo, though no one seemed to hear. There was a faint roaring sound in the background of the spacious common-place we now crept into, and I glanced to my left at Ivan when I heard his familiar snicker.

"They're celebrating – how pitiful." Listening closer I could pick up traces of stringed instruments engaging in a joyous melody, men and women laughing, footsteps running all over the place, and then the voice of the leader himself addressing the cheering assassins, most of which I imagined were drunk as well.

"It's a shame they didn't invite us," I whispered with a snort. Ivan cracked a wry smile and patted me on the back – stunning me for a brief second. It was unlike Ivan to appreciate any good joke or wise retort I made, so this was a pleasant turn on events. Perhaps we were becoming more united than I thought.

"Go join them. I can lay waste to you as well," he cracked in return. My smile faltered. So he still wanted to kill me? So much for us becoming friends; though, I would probably leap on his throat the second I had a chance, as well. The guy really annoyed me sometimes. I made a mock laugh and we took a sharp right into an unlit corridor. A few men danced in the darkness, most of them naked, and Ivan instructed me to shoot them all quickly. I fired as fast as I possibly could, reloading occasionally, while Ivan tackled some of the runners to the ground. Alexander always explained that you had to handle your victims like chickens – shoot one and the rest would go running in panic. Ivan checked all the rooms as we continued down the hall, occasionally entering one and coming back out with a bloody knife and gleaming eyes. I could only imagine what was actually going on in those rooms, because Ivan seemed to love killing the mood, no pun intended.

"Are you sure we're going the right way? Surely the prison wouldn't be in a section so public," I commented as I reloaded my flintlock. Ivan glared back at me from his leave and I gasped as a crumpled piece of parchment was tossed in my face. I unwrapped it carefully and examined the map legibly printed on the front, obviously freshly crafted. I could see the main hall where we entered, and traced my finger along the corridor to a secret passage that led to the entrance of the prison. How my clan received this information, I would never know. I hardly cared to find out. The banquet hall, where I assumed the "party" was being held, was tied to the prison with a more public entrance nearby. This made me uneasy. With so many people gathered near the main entrance, it was almost certain that we wouldn't leave without a gruesome battle. Although, with Ivan as my rescue partner it was almost certain that we wouldn't have left without one anyways. "Any idea what might trigger the passage?" I asked as we came to a dead end.

Ivan examined the hall silently, leaning his ear against the stone of the wall and knocking repeatedly. He smiled as one knock seemed to please him, and as he turned his eyes rested on the golden statue of a wolf/woman hybrid that I recognized as Lupe, King George's goddess. It gleamed in the moonlight streaming from the adjacent window, and its paws were outstretched in a funny manner. I noted that it almost looked as if she was performing a sexual act and clasped my hands over my mouth in an effort to hold back my immature giggle-fit. Ivan didn't seem to notice and instead revealed a golden dagger from inside his cloak and placed it in Lupe's paws. It settled in place with a _click_ and all at once the wall behind us seemed to crumble apart.

"Retrieve the knife while I enter the passage, then follow behind me and don't look behind you. We need to get Feliciano and get out of here before they realize what we've done." And with that, he rushed down into the darkness. I waited until his ominous footsteps had vanished before I turned to examine the knife and statue closer. Placing my hand around the grip of the dagger, I pulled slightly and nearly screamed when Lupe's eyes flashed a fearsome green. It left me blinded and I fell backwards to the floor, clutching my face and groaning with pain as black and white spots clouded my vision. Rubbing my eyes repeatedly, I dragged my hand along my face and finally found the will to return my gaze to the statue, though the eyes had returned to their natural gold hue. The dagger fell to the floor with an obnoxious clatter, and officially stupefied, I grabbed it quickly and made haste to follow Ivan.

My "companion" had already located Feliciano heavily chained in a cell nearest the other entrance, though no one entered nor had been in the prison with him to begin with.

"Alfred! I'm 'a so glad you came to rescue me, but you don't happen to have any French bread on hand, do you? My poor tummy could use a snack…Oh! Ivan, how is Ludwig? I tried to stop him from going further but then they spotted me and my pathetic self had to run, and oh, it was so terrifying! He's okay, right? I don't want to die but I know that if I'm responsible for his death I would probably kill myself before Alexander could get to me…"

I tuned out when Feliciano started talking, understanding immediately that it would probably be awhile before he stopped. Instead I distracted myself by examining the chamber in which he was placed. There were a couple of rusty cells next to Feliciano's, though they were completely barren. The room itself wasn't too bad, and contained a pretty nice fire place on the farthest wall with a rustic, wooden table in the very center, possibly for guards to just sit and relax. This clan had always been somewhat lazy. A metal helmet in the shape of a wolf's head hung from the fire place's mantle. It was obvious whom it represented. There was a flickering light coming from deeper within the chamber, in another corridor, they had a ton of them, that I assumed led to the torture chamber. The bloody streaks and handprints on the walls made that pretty obvious.

Ivan had managed to get Feliciano unchained and out of his cell by the time I actually started paying attention again, even though I still had no idea _how_ he managed to. Perhaps those knives of his were sharper than I originally assumed.

"…and they were planning to kill the virgin too!" Feliciano finished with an anguished cry that was quickly hushed by Ivan. I could feel the hair on my neck and arms rise as a couple of voices were heard outside of the iron door only a few feet away.

"Shit," Ivan cursed under his breath, dragging Feliciano away with him. "Alfred," he turned to face me, ignoring the drool spilling from our clanmate's mouth. "Fire at whoever comes through that door and follow the path we took to get down here. If you don't see us, go ahead and return to Rotomagense Abbatia. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," I nodded as the two disappeared up the stairs, holding my weapon to the ready and hiding in a dark corner behind a barrel of wine. I could hear the voices of two assassins mutter to each other from behind the door, one was clearly drunk. I still couldn't decipher exactly what they were saying. I held my breath as the voices became clearer.

"_Come on, Arthur. We really need to get you to a bed.."_

"_You're not my mas'er, Kikuu. Come on! Loos'n up a li'l! *hic* All I wanna do is *hic* spit in 'is face!"_

I could hear the man named Kiku sigh, and momentarily brushed aside the familiarity of that name.

"_Very well. I'm going to talk to Roderich…just try not to do something stupid while you're in this state."_

I heard the sound of retreating footsteps, and then the room was engulfed in light as Arthur opened the door, stumbling down the steps in a drunken stupor. I shrank behind the barrel when the room was darkened once again, 'cause I hadn't missed that gleam of the dagger tucked away in his boot. He was bandaged heavily, the smell of onions and what could only be described as "man" following him around, making me gag. I held my breath as he drew closer, and realized that he must have been too drunk to notice that the prisoner was gone.

"Well where is 'e?" he groaned, stumbling past each individual cell. "Where are ya, bloody wanker?" I snorted at his accent, and his foul language. Arthur didn't seem all that intimidating, but that was probably why he kept a spare dagger hidden away. He had tousled golden hair and a fairly thin face, though his eyebrows were nowhere near thin. I chuckled to myself in the realization that he could pass off as a wolf himself with eyebrows that large, and the way he stalked around like some kind of predator – it gave him a bizarre charm that I found myself instantly drawn to. For a moment I forgot that I was supposed to be hiding, and simply entertained myself with watching him. He continued to look for Feliciano, startling me when he cursed loudly and pulled the knife free from its former encasement. "I know you're here somewhere," he hissed threateningly. It was at that moment that I remembered what I was there for, and I hesitantly drew a bead. Yet, I was unable to fire. I made the excuse that I needed a better aim, and so I took a deep breath and stood from my hiding place – catching his attention instantly.

We simply stared at one another for the longest time, and although I knew my purpose and what I was there for, it almost seemed like he had forgotten. His face was startled, blinking, unfocused. That quickly changed when his expression of bewilderment turned menacing and he pounced like a carnivorous animal. He swung his knife ferociously, unwilling to take a break even though I could tell from the look on his face that he was in pain. I would put him out of that pain soon enough.

"What the 'ell did you do with him, Rouen bastard?" he snarled, moving us so that we were now tumbling on the floor. I had dropped my gun and was unable to reach from where he had me pinned. Instead, I focused my energy on keeping the knife at bay, though he manically tried to force it down to my throat. Finally, I managed to get a good grip on him and forced him off. The knife clattered as it fell to the floor and skid out of reach, though I was able to take it within my own hand. Meanwhile I had pushed Arthur into a couple more barrels of wine, succeeding in knocking them over. He slipped on the spilt wine and fell on his ass, mumbling a curse to himself as he desperately squirmed and gasped in pain, unable to find his grip and stand again. He really was hopelessly drunk. It almost made me regret that this would be his last fight – a pitiful drunkard desperately trying to protect his clan.

I positioned my flintlock at his forehead, preparing to make it as quick and painless as humanly possible. I had his knife in my other hand, making him completely defenseless. He seemed to turn sober for an instant and realizing his current situation, he bowed his head and frowned despairingly.

"Good to ya lad, I never thought someone would be able to take Arthur Kirkland down, let alone a Rouen," he spat. "What's your name?" he peered up curiously at me and our eyes locked for the first time.

I don't believe in love at first sight. To put my emotions during that moment in simple terms, I found the wine far less intoxicating than the viridian orbs that flickered in the firelight, seemingly capturing my attention and my attention alone.

* * *

I must have died and gone to Lupe's embrace, must have been dancing with Luna already, for I was lost in the sky. The deep blue sky, so dazzling, despite the fact that it was still night. Or perhaps I was drowning. But how could that be? Was Hell located in the deepest depths of the seven seas? Or perhaps it was neither. Perhaps I was more sober than I gave myself credit for and actually was staring into the brilliantly blue eyes that belonged to the man who was currently holding me at gunpoint. As ridiculous as it sounded, it was hard not to be swept away in the moment.

"I'm Alfred. Alfred F. Jones, to be precise."

Alfred, huh? I tried to laugh at this young man's foolishness, but found myself inhabilitated . I could only gape at him in my awkward daze. This man – had taken me down. I was going to die. He was going to end me. And I was drunk too. Father always told me my drinking would get the better of me, as did Kiku. _Kiku._ I debated trying to call for him, but it would have been too late anyways. I would be gone the second a whimper was emitted. Not that Arthur Kirkland actually _whimpered_, just to make things perfectly clear.

"I should pull this trigger," he mused "and end it all for you." Then why wouldn't he? What was stopping him? It must have been the same thing that was preventing me from fighting for my life. I felt more than sober now, more than aware. So…so why did I still feel as if I was drowning? "I don't want to, though. I killed many of your assassins when I came here. Shot them all dead. But I don't want that to happen to you. You're _different_." What in Lupe's name was he going on about? How was I different? The bastard didn't even know me!

…but it felt like we were supposed to meet.

"I-," my eyes widened in shock at his low sobs. "I-I can't. I don't know what I'm doing." He dropped his weapon then. He even dropped my knife, though I was still too numb to take action. I opened my mouth without even thinking about it, and scared myself with what I uttered.

"This is meant to be." My voice was no higher than a whisper, but the words echoed loudly in my brain and gave me a migraine. Our eyes met again, except this time I was prepared for the rush of emotions that surged in my veins. I was growing weaker every second he looked at me. Then it occurred to me – this must have been a ruse. He was distracting me with these random feelings of security and warmth only to take me down when I let my defenses fall…which I had. I quickly corrected myself. "I mean," and I forced myself to my feet and grabbed both the fallen dagger and the flintlock, pointing both at him. "_This _is meant to be. I'm supposed to live and continue to serve Lupe and Luna. You must die by my hand." He seemed shocked at first, but it quickly wavered into surrender. He fell to his knees and threw his hands in the air, eyes now closed in defeat.

"Do what you must," was the last thing I heard from him.

I never really understood why it had become so hard for me to pull that damn trigger. I couldn't thrust my own dagger into his chest either. I couldn't attack him anymore, not when I was aware that I would only be closing those dazzling eyes for all eternity. I couldn't find the heart to hurt him. So I didn't. I let out a groan of frustration and dropped his blasted flintlock, kicking it so it landed near his feet. I could feel his gaze on me, probably one of the questioning sort, but wisely chose to ignore it this time. "Leave," I ordered.

He shuffled away quickly, out the passage from which he had came, though I remained in the cell even after his departure. I fell to the ground with a sigh, letting the wetness of the wine comfort me and stroke the soft flesh of my cheek. Panicked screaming began to echo from outside in the banquet hall, intermixed with occasional curse word or loud shriek to Lupe. I ignored everything. I chose to act like I was still drunk, though I had left that feverish stupor hours ago. I ignored Gilbert's annoying chides, Elizabeth's caresses of concern, and Kiku's embraces. Toris was trying to get me to talk, but I ignored him as well. I let them drag me to my bed, and I allowed a nurse to put a cool washcloth on my forehead, though I attempted to explain that I was cool enough. All I had to do was imagine that I was swimming…in the sky…Alfred still by my side. I would see him again if it killed me – or him. Even if we met on the battlefield, I would see him again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**

**I'm so sorry for the wait, but I have returned! This chapter is a little shorter, but will hopefully satisfy those who actually like this story. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, begin!**

_Vendolius Abbatia, 1776, "The snow is stained with blood…"_

I felt content having just sliced the throat of a renegade servant in King George's house, and then dumping the bloody corpse far from the palace so that his highness may never know of her betrayal. It was quite rare that one of us would ever need to sneak into the home of our King to complete a mission, though there were times when traitors did linger in the halls – caught by Vendeuil eyes when least expected. Another rarity was that my cloak and greaves were white to blend in with the last of winter's leavings. Snow still remained fairly heavy on the ground, and in the trees, although small blossoms managed to peak through here and there. The softer side of me loved to stop and gaze at the in wonder until my daemon forced me onward to my next victim.

It was presently the middle of Mârtius, and although I felt a bead of sweat graze my cheek underneath the wool of my cloak, I refused to remove it. It was easier to wear than to drag by hand through the snow and weeds that had managed to sprout past the walls of their icy prison. I sighed in relief and slight exhaustion as I saw Onyx approach, the coat for which she was named loudly contrasting against the winter wonderland around her. She approached me steadily and I leaned onto her for support, stroking her muzzle affectionately as her own breath showed in short white puffs.

"_Quam pulchra es,_" I soothed her, reaching over to hook my bow to her saddle, then returning to her muzzle again. Onyx was a good companion. I dared say she was the best of our horses, always loyal and there when I needed her. I had purchased her from a village market when she was only a colt, and from there we had a special bond that no other assassin had with their steed. It was a good purchase, to say the least. "Yes, you are quite beautiful and graceful as well." She nudged at my shoulder and puffed again. I laughed and took that as a sign of impatience. "I suppose we must be heading back, mustn't we?" I mounted her and gently kicked at her sides before she took off at a fierce gallop down the snowy slopes. She received no direction from me as we left the maze of the forest, and though it didn't capture my attention like it would have had I been on foot, I distinctly remember a black wolf revealing itself as Onyx continued on, and it looked familiar. Lupe was definitely blessing me.

Vendolius Abbatia come into view only moments later, the towers glazed in snow like a fresh-baked pastry. Tall and proud, I smiled at the sight of my home and marveled at how we had managed to pull together as fierce assassins through the tragedies that had struck only months prior. We had lost our prisoner, a Rouen, and many valuable assassins whom we had found dead in various halls and rooms. The main murder weapon had been a blade, though there were two men out front who had been knocked off via bullet. I had known then that Alfred was responsible, if only partly responsible. I didn't understand why I had longed for confirmation, as Alfred was a Rouen assassin and my enemy. He had been there that night, the night I was partly drunk and unable to defend myself. It was a night that would settle infamously in my blackened heart for all eternity, for more reasons than one. I was ashamed that I had been too far in stupor to properly defend my clan. However, I was also mystified that I had no real desire to fight the moment Alfred had entered the picture.

His eyes – they pissed me off. Damn them for being so blue and gorgeous, burning into my soul like azure fire. They blazed in a way that Toris' eyes did not, and possessed a similar amount of warmth to Kiku's. His hesitation to kill me…confused me, really. It didn't necessarily piss me off – it confused me. No, what pissed me off was that I had gone down. The fact that he had refused to end my humiliation when he had the upper-hand sent me through so many mental debates on _why _he had acted so foolishly. I told myself that if we met again, and we would, he would not do the same twice. He would kill me like he was supposed to, or I would kill him. I promised myself that I would show no weakness and end the job. I would send an arrow to pierce an eye and leave him partly blinded, and then I would take out the other eye. He would crawl around in desperation and I would cackle in triumph and entertainment before sending one last arrow to pierce his heart. That is how it would happen.

I scared myself when I realized I wasn't so sure. I didn't think I could destroy orbs such as his. Honestly, there were times when I would accidentally fall too deep into my thoughts and briefly consider the possibility that I wouldn't be able to end him at all. He spared my life, wasn't it only fair to spare his? But then again, he was a member of the Rotomagense. Why was I so worked up over this bloody assassin? What made him so important that he tormented the thoughts of Arthur Kirkland?

I felt foolish.

"Onyx," I sighed as I led her to the stables. "I swear he must be practicing witchcraft. He's evil, I can tell. No wanker, no Rouen, should have me feeling this conflicted." Then I filled her feedbag with grain and fell to the ground in front of her stall, tossing and tearing pieces of hay in a bored fashion. As if I wasn't bothered enough, Feliks picked that time to stride in like he always did and leaned on the rustic gate, tapping the wall to bend my attention to him.

"Talking to yourself again?"

"Wishing to have our throat sliced are we?" I snapped back.

He smirked and plopped himself down next to me, picking at the hay similarly. Letting one cheek rest on his palm, he made a prosy attempt at conversing with me. "Toris says you're getting better," his other hand swept lilac bangs aside in a feminine motion that never ceased to amuse me. "But then again, what does Toris know? I think you're the same brooding, boorish, cut-throat scoundrel you've always been!"

"If I gave a fuck what you thought I would have thrown myself into the fire pit at this point."

"Then you won't mind if I guess why you've been so emotionally drained for almost a year now?"

My head snapped in his direction, my eyes surely challenging him to say what I assumed he was implying. I briefly considered sticking my blade into his throat before he could utter the first word. "Go on, I dare you," I hissed. He glanced at me and grinned that mischievous grin of his, then shrugged and went back to tossing hay.

"Nah, not worth it. I'll just wait and see."

I didn't have time to consider his words before Gilbert rushed in completely out of breath and cherry-faced. His white hands seemed even whiter as he gripped the hinges of the stable door, gasping for air and sputtering incoherently.

"Bloody hell man, spit it out!" I chided impatiently, ignoring the fact that the man before me had the power to end my being.

"E-Elizabeth…she's gone into l-labor…"

I froze. It had only been about eight months since Roderich announced that his daughter was pregnant with the newest addition to our group of assassins. I blinked to regain focus and shrugged, picking at more hay while I assumed Gilbert glared. The process of cleaning our sanctuary after the attack had consumed the majority of our focus, and so I assumed that most of us had indeed forgotten about the child. Though, it was still a month or so early. I cringed as Gilbert literally fell to his knees in the doorway, remembering the tale of my own birth and how I had taken my mother's life – a gifted assassin as I knew Elizabeth to be. Would she suffer the same fate at the hand of her child?

"I-I d-don't know what t-to do…" he sobbed hopelessly. I watched in cloaked shock, having never seen Gilbert cry for anyone or anything.

"First of all," I barked, standing immediately and striding over to where Gilbert lay nearly collapsed with what I assumed to be prepared grief, "Get yourself together, man." I pulled him to his feet and practically shoved both of us out the stable door. "You need to be there for the birth, and I will be standing with you just in case you become too sick to stand." He flashed a look to me that I mistook for appreciation, but it was certainly not that. Gilbert did not appreciate anything.

Elizabeth's screams of pain rang clear throughout the halls of Vendolius Abbatia that evening. Nurses ran in and out at a frequent pace with towelettes and wash basins of fresh water, and eventually Gilbert was allowed in. At one point I had considered leaving, as I was sitting there alone and it was apparent Gilbert wasn't coming back out, when suddenly the man slipped out from behind the door and vomited. I awkwardly rubbed his back as he purged again, then he looked at me with swollen red eyes. The man looked positively sickly. "So much blood," he muttered quietly. "There's so much blood…" I was fearful at first that the birth had gone wrong and that Elizabeth was in fact paying the price for it, but then a nurse eased her way out of the room, creaking the door only slightly, and whispered to Gilbert, "We have it cleaned up, now. You should be fine." Her old, steady eyes then turned to me and she spoke a little louder, "Fetch Roderich, please."

I muttered indignantly at being treated like a servant, yet I continued down to our leader's chambers. Roderich was seated at his desk smoking a pipe, his feet propped up comfortably, a chalice of wine in his hand. He noticed me as soon as I stepped in, bowing my head in respect.

"Arthur," he raised his cup to me. I shook a hand gently to decline the offer of alcohol. Now was not the time to drink my thoughts away.

"Sir," I cleared my throat, "Your daughter's child has been delivered. Elizabeth is requesting you."

Roderich chuckled and noted, "Elizabeth would never request me. The nurse sent you?" My throat went dry and I opened my mouth to reply, but no sound emerged. Eventually I simply nodded. Our leader sighed and stretched his arms, lowering his feet and standing to attention. He held his wine quite well. "Then, I will be off." I nodded as he passed me, but the clicking of his boots paused when he reached the door. I didn't turn around to analyze his expression, if he had any at all. "Here's hoping you'll know this feeling one day, Arthur," I swallowed at the coy smile in his tone, "Here's hoping you'll make a _woman_ very happy." My fists clenched as he strode out, closing the door behind him.

I was going to murder Feliks.

* * *

_Rotomagense Abbatia, 1776, "Tainted victories are present…"_

We were in chaos. When we had made the attack the previous year, we had thought that doing so successfully had saved our hides – had ensured us a pedestal above the Vendeuils. We had been wrong. Not only had the enemy birthed another assassin, but they had taken the life of one of our eyes. I had known the servant well. The poor girl had only wanted to help, and we had promised her freedom and a good life should she come through. She died by the hand of one of those barbarians. _Di meliora._ We needed something to bend, something to give us an edge of luck. Too many lives were being lost to this feud, and so something had to give.

Alexander spent most of the days in his office, the door shut and locked as it had been before, no longer open to me or anyone else. Ivan often spent time in there with other higher ranking assassins, but that only lifted my spirits a fair amount. I had been stressed lately, what with Francis poking at me constantly, inquiring about possible love interests for me. Natalia, Ivan's sister, had entered the conversation more than once, and although it was true she liked me – I refused. I could hardly handle Ivan, let alone his bat-shit insane sister. Honestly, I was distracted. I couldn't help but think of the night I had almost been caught, had been held at gunpoint by a very…interesting assassin. Perhaps interesting wasn't the best word. He was beautiful – his golden hair mussed from fighting, his eyes gleaming in the dim cellar, and those eyebrows…so _formosus_. I remembered him well: Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. We had both been out of our minds that night, talking of meaningless, sentimental things that neither of us really understood. I couldn't remember most of what was said. I only remember that I felt intoxicated every moment of that exchange.

"Are we 'aving trouble, monsieur?" Francis whispered in my ear, making me shiver and squirm as he breathed down a sensitive part of my neck. I smacked him sloppily on the chin, but he only laughed.

"Did I mention that I _hate _when you do that?"

He shrugged, "Time and time again, but it never gets old. Stop drifting off and drink your wine, or else I will be forced to drink it for you." He eyed my cup eagerly, and so I raised an eyebrow at him and took a sip, smirking as I licked a droplet off the top. He smirked in return and faced his plate of roasted pork once again, yet he still spoke to me. "You 'ave been distracted, mon cher. Thinking about anyone in particular?"

I hadn't told anyone about the incident in the cellar to avoid losing any trace of dignity I had left. And someone would have probably skinned me alive had they known that I had dropped all defenses for the enemy. I clicked my tongue and grinned. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I'm daydreaming about Natalia." I set my fork down and pushed my plate away. Francis eyed me closely and took the last slice of bread for himself. The man really was a pig for being so beautiful to the ladies of our clan. He flipped his long, lilac hair and tsk'd at me.

"Enough with 'ze jokes, tell me who it is."

"It's no one."

"Liar!"

I rolled my eyes and cursed Francis for being so nosy. "It's none of your concern, Frog." I liked to tease him with the nickname only because it reminded him of a previous battle in which his opponent attempted to use it as an insult. Sometimes I wondered if it was Arthur. For some reason I could imagine him using it.

"L'amour is always my concern. Man or woman?"

Leaning back in my chair and closing my eyes I sighed, "Man." I was happy that the hall was too noisy for anyone else to listen in to the conversation.

"It is me, isn't it?" he laughed loudly, enough so that Ludwig gave us a weird look a table away, though he went back to listening to Feliciano after a moment or two. I snorted and left the table, though Francis didn't try to stop me. In fact, he didn't question me anymore after that.

I lounged about the rest of the day, feeling unbearably full to train or exercise. At one point I visited the nursery where the children of our clan jumped almost immediately at the chance to show me some of their moves. I even let one little girl pin me to the ground as she slashed at me with her tiny knife. I received a few good cuts, but nothing worth crying about. I went to my bunk after that and simply stared up at the ceiling, fingering my cuts and scars, not thinking about anything at that point. I wanted to daydream about Arthur, but shame prevented me from letting my fantasies overwhelm me. My eyes grew heavier and I realized that I was drifting to sleep until the screech of a cat awoke me once again. I sat up immediately and realized that it was actually Natalia calling to me. "Alfred, come down here. Don't test me," she giggled from outside the door, "I'll come in whether you're naked or not." I sighed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, lumbering tiredly to the door and opening it reluctantly.

"What is it, Natalia?" I groaned.

"Father wants every available hand in his office," she blinked up at me. "That means you as well."

If I wasn't already groggy enough, I sure was the second she reported that Alexander needed assassins. That meant there was probably work for me to do, and I would have to suffer another activity with a pain in the ass – more than likely Ivan again. Alexander always did like to partner his son and I up, as if I was a star pupil and came anywhere close to Ivan's skill level. I didn't. I could admit it to myself, but only to myself. "Did he ask for me specifically?"

"No," her expression turned sour.

"Well," I turned around and marched back toward the bed, "I guess I can sleep in a little longer.."

She grabbed me, literally grabbed me and pinned me against the wall. My head hit the stone with a _thud_ and I groaned as a dagger was held up to my throat. It didn't surprise me that the crazy bitch was smiling as I regained my composure and swallowed the will to simply shove her back. "Now," she whispered in my ear, licking it. I shoved her then, though not enough to do any damage rather to get her off of me, and stormed out of the room and down to Alexander's office, huffing and puffing the entire way. This was not going to be fun. I already knew it.

The room was fairly packed, and so I squeezed my way in by stone cold faces and found Francis and Ludwig, surprised when I realized that Feliciano wasn't anywhere to be found. Although, if this had anything to do with a battle, it would make sense that the boy would either hide or be excused from the meeting altogether after his last mission went completely awry. No one spoke to me; everyone was focused on Alexander presently speaking fiercely at the front, Ivan at his right-hand. He had a new map in front of him it seemed, and I briefly remembered my amazement when Ivan had pulled that map of Vendolius Abbatia out of thin air. This one was not of the Vendeuils, however. Upon closer inspection, which required me to push past quite a few people, I realized that the map was of the secret tunnels in King George's palace. My eyes widened, and I felt Ivan's smirk burn into my skull, though I did not meet his gaze. How in the holy kingdom did they recover such a thing? Only the Vendeuils would have such a map, most likely in their bibliotheque, which begged the question: who retrieved the map? Ivan certainly hadn't when we had invaded, since we were nowhere near the bibliotheque. A sharp rise in Alexander's tone forced my attention back to him.

"No more death will come to our spies if we can help it!" he barked, raising a fist. "I need our best men, our slyest foxes, to infiltrate the castle and take the next step in bringing an end to this madness."

"Pardon me monsieur, but 'ow are we sure 'zat 'is majesty will not be in 'ze palace? We could send a blow right 'zen and 'zere and end it permanently."

"A list of movements of King George and Queen Caroline as well as their dates has been confiscated from our enemies right under their very noses. Sure enough, tonight King George will leave Gandavum as a result of foreign affairs, and Queen Caroline will be left alone."

"So we're going to murder an innocent woman," a random man sarcastically tossed in. I was about to object until Alexander taught the man his place.

"Queen Caroline is neither innocent nor is she a woman," he growled. "She's a fiend! She's watched the chaos and laughed at it. She must die. And by spilling her blood, we will anger the King enough to where he will fight without thought. An angry fight is a quick one; therefore, victory will be easy to claim."

I agreed, and I could tell most of the room did as well. Alexander had this strange way of enflaming the hearts of his assassins in a way I was sure Roderich could not. His plans were nearly always successful, and so we spent the rest of the evening planning secret routes within the castle and where the Queen would be exactly using a schedule the servant had managed to get to us before her untimely demise.

"Be wary," Alexander warned when all men were stationed, "Our enemies are very aware that this schedule is gone, though they are not strong enough to break in and confiscate it themselves. They will be watching for an attack on her highness."

"We will prevail, Father," Ivan stepped forward, scanning the room with confident eyes. "She will squeal like a pig when we have her cornered."

"Suits her well," Alexander nodded, taking his sons hands and kissing them for good luck. He bowed to the rest of us, which we reciprocated immediately, and marched proudly out of the room, patting some of the men on the back as he left. Most of everyone followed his leave, and by _most _I mean everyone except Ivan and I. Go figure. Natalia skipped inside the room as well, having obviously been listening to her father's plan of attack. She took the arm of her brother as he beckoned me closer.

"Alfred," he spoke almost pleasantly. "I understand you have already been assigned a task, but I need something else of you."

"Of course, Ivan," I forced a confident smile.

"I want you to be by my side as I enter the main tunnel. I want you to fight next to me."

I blinked and stared at him, unsure of what he meant. Something was seriously warped in that sentence. First of all, Ivan fought alone when he could. That was a given. Secondly, how was he certain that there were going to be Vendeuils in the main tunnel to the Queen's chambers? No one was even sure that they were aware an attack was going to take place. Why would they take defense without certainty? "I-I don't understand," I stuttered, confused.

"I _know_ that there will be spies in those tunnels. I _know_ that they know our every move."

"How?" was the only thing I could manage. He smiled a serpent-like smile.

"That man that spoke out against Alexander…he was Vendeuil."

I gaped at him for a few seconds before forcing my mouth closed. My eyebrows furrowed and I thought about that man, though I hadn't seen him I had heard his voice, and it had sounded vaguely familiar.

Ivan continued, "His name is Kiku. He lives in Vendolius Abbatia, though he used to train here. Surely you remember him?" I only remembered him faintly: just a small, quiet child with long black hair that covered large brown eyes. "He 'switched' his alliance long ago, though he still remained loyal to us. He is the reason we have most of the information we do. Unfortunately, it seems he has spent enough time in their abbatia to side with them more than is safe for us."

I considered this. "So you believe he will give us away?"

"There isn't a doubt in my mind he will."

"What will we do about him, then?"

He grinned and chuckled a light, "Nothing. They will take care of him when he confesses. Kiku may think he will be in the clear for sharing our plans, but he has been sharing there's longer, and has been attending our meetings without permission. When Roderich learns of this, punishing Kiku will be out of our hands." I swallowed and almost pitied Kiku, but looking back into Ivan's stone-cold eyes fueled me with rage and drowned out everything else.

"Then I will follow you," I nodded. "I will fight by your side, Ivan." He smiled and nudged Natalia forward.

"If you succeed in helping me Alfred, as promised to you, Natalia, you both will join hands in marriage."

I nearly choked on my own saliva at that notion. It wasn't even an offer so much as it was a demand. If I managed to live through this, if I managed to succeed in my task, then I…was to marry Natalia. I wished I had the power to turn back the clock and choose death when he stood in front of me with those dazzling green eyes of his. It would have been heaven compared to this hell.

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**I never have much to say here. xD Anyways, I want to apologize for any grammatical mistakes that I may miss, and I will now translate some things to those who need it:**

**_Mârtius_: March**

**_Quam pulchra es_: "How beautiful you are."**

**_Di meliora_: "Heaven send us better times."**

**_Formosus_: "Handsome" **

**_Bibliotheque_: "Library"**

**See you next chapter! **


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